Never Too Old
by cosmic-owl
Summary: Kurt/Blaine  It started with an egg hunt, but Blaine finds something better. Easter fluff.


Title: Never Too Old  
>Media: Fic<br>Rating: G  
>Pairing: KurtBlaine, mentions of: Brittany/Artie Lauren/Puck  
>Summary: It started with an egg hunt, but Blaine finds something better.<p>

AN: Written for Easter.

"I see you've got quite a collection there."

Blaine turned to see his boyfriend(!) of two weeks walking across the lawn, smiling genially as he approached him, swinging his wicker basket slightly. There were only handful of plastic colored eggs in his, though at this point in his life he was pretty sure Kurt wouldn't throw a tantrum over the fact that Blaine's own basket was brimming with more Easter treats.

(But he had overheard Finn throwing a fit over someone, most likely Puck, eating his chocolate rabbit ears when Kurt invited him to the traditional Pierce Family Easter Egg Hunt over the phone that morning, so it was still possible...)

Blaine smiled sheepishly back.

"What can I say? Being closer to the ground gives me an advantage, I guess. That and over the years I've perfected the art of egg hunting."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, taking in his overeager boyfriend.

"Mm. I see that if I was actually invested in this, I would have to ruin my clothes." 

Blaine was still in his Sunday Mass attire, and hadn't bothered going home to change. His parents didn't seem to care either way, so here Blaine was, in a heather grey suit and goldenrod dress shirt, grass stains on his knees and warm mulch in the soles of his dress shoes. Blaine could feel the still moist grass seeping in from where he's sitting on the curb. Kurt wavers on the belgium blocks, mimicking a tightrope walker, before stepping lightly into the street. He is wearing a snow white ensemble with thin, gossamer stands of pink silk running vertically along the blazer and pant legs. His satin bowtie, dusty rose in color, shimmers in the weak sunlight peeking in and out of the ever present storm clouds. Blaine pats an amiable space for Kurt to cuddle up next to him, but the other boy just wrinkles his nose and crouches on the balls of his feet in front of Blaine instead. 

"I brought you a little something," Kurt whispers bashfully, pulling out a trio of long stemmed grape hyacinths from his basket. 

"May I?", he asks, gesturing to Blaine's buttonhole of his suit jacket. Blaine makes a wordless gesture to proceed, all smiles as his boyfriend leans forward.

Kurt places the flowers in with expert precision, his fingertips lightly pressing into the lapels and seeping under his shirt, absorbed by the skin of his breastbone. Blaine watches unashamedly, the glints of gold and burgundy in Kurt's hair, the slightest perfusion of self conscious pink in the apples of his cheeks, the way Kurt's eyes slide from a light grey blue to a brilliant spectrum of turquoise, the same way an egg is dipped into dye and transitions from pale to bold colors over time. Blaine drinks in Kurt, forever in a moment, before he is finally finished, far too soon for Blaine's liking. So when Kurt smooths the area down, admiring his handiwork, Blaine grasps his hand and brushes it against his lips. Kurt's eyes startle wide open, fluttering up to gaze at him.

"Thanks for inviting me," he tells the row of pale digits, his breath vibrating along the fine hairs of Kurt's knuckles. Kurt stumbles forward a little, blushing a little harder, trying to keep his balance. 

"Blaine!," he says, trying to sound exasperated around his smile, "Stop that, you'll make me fall on top of you." 

Blaine takes this on as a challenge and pulls harder, Kurt falling on top of him with the barest resistance. Their legs must have tipped one of the baskets over, because just over the sound of Kurt's surprised squeak Blaine can hear the plastic eggs roll against the pavement, one of them popping open and spraying jellybeans. He can mourn their loss later.

"Blaine!," Kurt says louder, the laughter bubbling up around his voice, trying to stay scandalized but looking absolutely content on top of him, "What's wrong with you, you're making me crush your flowers!" The sweet smell that permeating their nostrils tells them that it's already too late for the flowers. Kurt gives a half hearted struggle before he gives up against Blaine's arms. 

Blaine cranes his head up, trying to gauge what the other couples are doing before returning to lavish affection on Kurt. He knows that the other boy is skittish, and that their newfound relationship is still a fragile thing to be hidden away from prying eyes. So Blaine looks up, scouting upside down with a halo of grass in his periphery. It looks like Brittany and Artie are wrapped up in each other, wearing bunny ears as they open their eggs together. Puck and Lauren seem to be having a Peeps eating contest over by the picnic table, where Santana and Finn are sitting opposite of them. Finn is texting someone and Santana is putting fake grass in the other boy's hair. 

Kurt kisses the exposed column of Blaine's neck, featherlight and startling. Blaine brings his head back down and Kurt gives him a proper kiss, the faint hint of chocolate lingering on his lips. He brings his hands from Kurt's back and urges the taller boy to move upwards, tugging at his sides. 

Blaine suddenly grins into the kiss, laughing into Kurt's mouth. 

Kurt huffs, pulling back. "What?", he half demands, stroking his thumb on Blaine's cheek. 

"I know where Finn's chocolate ears went," Blaine sing songed, smile growing wider as Kurt flushed guiltily. 

"Oh shut up," Kurt muttered against his skin, nosing his way up Blaine's jawline. 

Blaine definitely changed his tune when Kurt started nibbling on his ears. 


End file.
